


I Don’t Smoke

by Chummy



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Akechi deserves to be angry, Akechi lives, Akira helps, Kisses, M/M, and he has to learn to cope with that, he also deserves to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22454764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chummy/pseuds/Chummy
Summary: “Be pissed, be mad, be fucking furious. You have every right to be. You’ve always had every right to be. And you have every right to act like it. You’ve played this role for so long Goro,”After all, it was easier to be mad.
Relationships: Akechi Goro & Sakamoto Ryuji, Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 163





	I Don’t Smoke

**Author's Note:**

> So if you need to be mean  
> Be mean to me  
> I can take it and put it inside of me  
> If your hands need to break  
> More than trinkets in your room  
> You can lean on my arm  
> As you break my heart  
> \- I Don’t Smoke, mitski.

_So if you need to be mean, be mean to me._

⚜️

He was supposed to die. 

Die a sad, lonely and bitter death. He expected nothing less considering the life he had been given. 

He was _supposed_ to die.

He didn’t.

The shots still rang in his ears and blood poured from his wounds, but he didn’t die. 

His cognitive wasn’t nearly as good a shot as he was. 

Before he could laugh at the irony in that the world went fuzzy and the wall behind him rose, letting his battered body fall backwards into waiting scarlett hands. 

He can’t remember much else, only foggy hazy memories that sound like Akira saying his name, feel like many gloved hands struggling to support him, taste like iron and defeat. 

Akechi wakes up in a bed he’s all too familiar with. He wakes up to the sweet scent of spices and coffee. He wakes with a start that pulls at fresh wounds and a scream that his sore throat can’t produce. 

Akira is there.

Akira is there and for the first time, it doesn’t make things better.

He passes out from the pain with curses on his tongue, struggling to push away caring hands. 

Goro Akechi wakes up three days later. His mouth tastes like ash and the frost climbing the windows seems to be rising in his own bones too.

He doesn’t open his eyes, doesn’t want to greet the attic he tried so hard to detest. He didn’t want to be here. 

He was supposed to have died.

It had all seemed so simple in the end. So enraging and _obvious._

He was never going to win. 

His justice would never be accomplished because it was never his to begin with. 

“You’re finally up huh?” A gruff voice pulled him from his thoughts, enough to notice the cigarette smoke that permeated the air. 

Sojiro Sakura. 

Akechi didn’t bother to look up to confirm, didn't move, barely even bothered to breathe. Because what was he supposed to do? Say hi? Ask him what’s for breakfast? 

He wasn’t supposed to be here, and the thought wouldn’t leave his mind.

He had made resentful peace with his death. Asked Akira for one last favor and dear, sweet, _heroic,_ Akira had said yes. As if Akechi hadn’t betrayed him in the worst possible way, as if Akechi hadn’t tried to kill him twice within a few days. 

Akechi left his justice in Akira’s hands and had closed his eyes, against that metal door. His goodbye. 

Only to wake up in his bed. 

“Akira is out, asked me to look over you, but quite frankly I’m busy,” Sojiro said, Akechi could hear the smoke pouring from his mouth and filling the room, along with thinly veiled frustration.

Akechi didn’t answer. Nor did he blame him when Sojiro gave a sigh and his footsteps got farther and farther away. 

Only when he knew Sojiro wasn’t coming back did he start to get up. Biting his tongue as pain shot up his sides, he only made it far enough to sit up in Akira’s bed. Tossing around the sheets in a petulant tantrum, clawing at them and the bandages on his sides as he held back tears. 

He wouldn’t cry, he willed himself. He hadn’t cried since he was a child. He didn’t even cry when he was fucking shot, he wasn’t about to now. 

Blinking away tears slowly, the cold moonlight his only company, he broke. 

He blamed it on the pain when the tears fell. Blamed it on the biting chill of the attic, blamed it on the dust that seemed a permanent resident. When sobs ripped through him, shaking his entire being, lungs burning for air, he blamed it on the bandages and whichever idiot that wrapped them too tight.

He cried, barely containing wails, beat at the mattress beneath him, rage and despair fighting so desperately within him. 

He cried until he couldn’t anymore, he cried until more stars filled the expansive night sky, he cried himself asleep. Exhausted enough not to notice Akira returning. 

The next few days weren’t much better. Waking up to cigarette smoke, staying in bed, barely speaking, barely eating. 

Trying to make sense of the storm that beat against his ribs. Trying to understand where this drowning sense of loss came from. Wishing more than anything he wasn’t there. 

He didn’t talk to Akira, couldn’t talk to Akira. Without feeling whatever little food he ate try to crawl it’s way out of his throat. Everytime he made eye contact he tried not to flinch, but given the torn look he got in return, he wasn’t doing a great job. 

What was he _supposed_ to say? Sorry? 

Might be a bit late for that, he thinks.

A few months and a bullet too late. 

Akira would try, and Akechi wanted to scream. Everytime Akira told him about his day, the people he talked too, the dog he saw on the train. Akira talked at him so softly, not in fear that Akechi would snap, no he talked to him like he had on so many private nights between them.

Akira talked to Akechi like he was still in love, and it made him so _fucking_ mad. 

What kind of fucking idiot loves a boy like him? One who’s done things like him? Said things the things he’d said and lived the life he lived?

He tries not to think about his own idiocy in falling in love with aforementioned idiot. He spent months suppressing his emotions, what’s a few more days? 

“You’re angry.” 

Now that had caught him off guard. Akira was mid story about that gun dealer that Akechi was pretending to not listen to. Akechi looked up from the sheets that had become almost second skin to him, unprepared for the blazing eyes that met his.

Akira had the most beautiful eyes. Often playing big roles in vivid daydreams of his. They managed to take his breath away everytime, this time was no different.

Breath caught in his throat he spared Akira a nod. The first real acknowledgement of Akira’s presence in days. 

Something akin to wildfire played in Akira’s eyes that Akechi could feel _burn_ on his own skin.

“Good,” Akira said, sounding so sure, confidant.

“Be angry.” 

At that Akechi blinked, unsure of what the fuck Akira was playing at but if he wanted to piss him off it was working. Akira must have sensed that because he broke into a wolfish grin so familiar Akechi could visualize his domino mask above it. 

“Be pissed Goro, be mad, be fucking _furious._ You have every right to be. You’ve always had every right to be. And you have every right to _act_ like it. You’ve played this role for so long Goro,” 

Akechi felt like he couldn’t breathe and like his lungs were filled with air all at once, not realizing how much he missed Akira saying his name until he said it.

“Whatever you’re thinking and trying to work out in your head, leave it for now,” 

Internally he cursed Akira for being able to read him so damn well, all those months Akira had always seen through him, externally he continued to listen, unable to look away.

“Leave it, and just feel. For once in your life, instead of masking it for the sake of your image,” 

His image, he thought, so carefully crafted, so lovingly and spitefully built. To be someone who could be wanted, to be someone who could one day be loved. He created a mask so beautifully fake, a mask he hated beyond anything. 

“Be angry Goro, and we’ll figure out out from there.” Akechi took notice of the way Akira stressed the _we’ll_ in that sentence. Just like Akira took notice of how it almost took him apart.

Even after everything, after everything he’d done, Akira wouldn’t let him be alone. Akira had seen him, in all his disgusting and murderous glory, and saved him anyways. _Loved,_ him anyways. That realization snapped something in him, his very last restraints.

After all, it was easier to be mad.

He moved to fast for the wounds that he carried, they stung awfully in protest but that only seemed to fuel him further as he all but climbed into Akira’s lap. 

Who, caught off guard by Akechi's sudden movements ended up with his back hitting the wooden floors and a very angry Goro Akechi on top of him. Akira hissed as his back hit the hard floor beneath him and the sound was almost enough to make Akechi smile.

“God fuck you Akira,” he said before Akira could say anything, he was tired of listening to him talk, he really couldn’t care less about his day right now, not right now. Not when Akira’s hands seemed to burn through his clothes from their place on his hips, when Akira looked at him with all the heat of a collapsing sun.

He leaned down as much as he could, ignoring the pain in his ribs and his pounding head from his sudden movements. Close enough to feel Akira’s breath coming in pants against his own. 

He looked into Akira’s blazing eyes and met them fully. For the first time in days, he felt _alive._

“Fuck you,” he bit out one more time, this time against Akira’s lips, all teeth and tongue, hands too rough and clawed angry marks wherever they could reach. 

Akechi pushed and pulled and bit, all fire and rage, all the emotions of the past few days, no, _years_ , leaving his body in waves into Akira. Akira his condemnor, Akira his Savior. 

_His_ chosen pyre, where he would burn. 

  
⚜️

_If your hands need to break more than trinkets in your room_

He found kindness somewhere completely unexpected. In _someone_ completely, unbelievably, unexpected. 

His anger had boiled to a simmer in his chest and his mind. But it wasn’t nearly as destructive and consuming as before. As all the years spent festering and blistering alone.

Which is something he so rarely found himself being.

From the moment he woke up and went to sleep he was accompanied. It started with Akira. Akira who weathered his storms and talked him through it. And when he no longer felt the urge to scream when the sudden ache of his failed plans intrude, Sojiro would talk to him.

He spent most of his days speaking to him, often asking just how he could sit and be so pleasant to Akechi despite all he had done. Sojiro had merely puffed out more smoke and was honest. 

“It was hard at first, I was mad kid, who wouldn’t be? But then I remembered, you’re _just_ a kid. None of it was fair to you like it wasn’t fair to me,” there, through cigarette smoke and piling ash, Sojiro had looked so sincere, for the first time in his life Goro Akechi felt a glowing warmth, an ember of kindness that looked a lot like a lit cigar. 

He apologized with a few tears he couldn’t will away. He apologized and he meant it. And when he told Sojiro he would make things right, he meant it. 

Sojiro served him coffee, the way he liked it, a few tissues for his wet cheeks and a rough hand gripping his shoulder. 

His justice began to taste like specially brewed coffee. 

The days were a bit easier after. Akira still kisses him with the passion a thousand suns and Sojiro turned the news channel down and didn’t let people bother him if they saw him. 

But the trails had merely just started. Because Akira was _anything_ like him. Akira had bonds, dear friends and relationships that Akechi had never had the chance to understand. To even experience. 

So it shouldn’t have been a surprise when a very bright head of dyed hair burst into Akira’s room demanding to be heard. 

Akechi hadn’t spoken to any of _them_ since the unfateful day in the engine room. He didn’t want too. Not yet. 

Life had a funny way of not really caring about what Akechi wanted.

Akira and Ryuji were exchanging words while Akechi made himself busy trying to disappear into the wall. Of all of Akira’s friends, really, truly, Akechi didn’t want to deal with Ryuji.

Ryuji Sakamoto, who hated him with so much passion it was almost inspiring. It was understandable of course, after all Goro had tried to kill his best friend, had planned it for months and almost got away with it too.

He didn’t blame him for his hatred, it was well placed after all.

“Having him cooped up in here won’t do him any good you know?” 

Now that brought his attention, they were talking about him. No, _Ryuji_ , was talking about him. And it was Ryuji who was looking at him with both parts concern and confusion. 

Akira was merely blinking, his big stupid eyes under tbose stupid glasses. Also surprised at the lack of disgust in Ryuji’s voice. 

“We have things to do you know? Deadlines and shit, no one else wants to say anything so I’m here,” Ryuji said, nonchalantly as if discussing the weather and with all his usual tact.

Akira moved to say something, mouth opening but Ryuji continued.

“I know you want him there, shit I get it, if anyone deserves to destroy Shido’s ass it’s the both of you, but we don’t have time to play house,” Ryuji crossed his arms and sent an accusatory glance to Akechi. He didn’t shrink away from it. 

Ah yes, _Shido_. He couldn’t stop the tightening of his fists, he didn’t really want too. Akira had made the executive decision to not proceed with Shido’s palace until Akechi was in fighting shape again.

A sweet thought that came with loud, blonde, consequences. 

“I don’t know if-“ Akira started and once again interrupted but by Akechi this time.

“I can fight.” His words didn’t shake, and neither did the rest of him as Ryuji raised a questioning brow in his direction. 

“Goro,” Akira was also looking at him and under both their gazes Akechi fought hard not to shrink.

But he was ready, born ready, he hadn’t died and he had to make use of that. His fate was his own, ultimately. 

“I can fight,” He repeated. “I will fight.” 

Akira continued to look unsure and Akechi was about to give him a fight right there to prove his point when Ryuji intervened.

“Cool that’s settled, so do you wanna call everyone here or do I?” 

Akechi tried not to seem taken aback by how quickly Ryuji accepted it. How he simply shrugged his shoulders at it and threw a grin at his bewildered best friend who continued to look back and forth between them. 

Ryuji seemed to get exasperated at Akira’s hesitance first which was also impressive because Akechi was on his last of two nerves.

“Akira, he said he can, and he looks wayyyy better than he did a week ago and we really don’t have any more time to spare. We need to do this and if he says he can, well, I aint gonna stop him,” Ryuji said, words laced with pure honestly, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. As if he didn’t hate Akechi’s guts for many deserved months. 

His surprise must have shown on his face because then Ryuji was approaching him and Akechi, never one to back down from a challenge, stood his ground. 

“Now listen,” he started looking everywhere but Akechi, “I don’t really like you, don’t take that the wrong way” Akechi wondered, how else he was supposed to take it but Ryuji barreled on. “But he does,” He pointed to a stock still Akira, who had the nerve to blush at a time like this. “He trusts you, he _always_ trusted you, no matter what the fuck I told him, no matter everything he knew. He trusts you, even after, what you did.” Ryuji mutters a bit at the end and Akechi can see him trying to choose his words. 

“I never understood why. I didn’t really try to either, what you did wasn’t right and I’m mad about it but,” Ryuji paused, taking a breath and finally looking Akechi in the eyes, full of strength and righteousness. “,•But you’re just like us huh? No matter which way I try to look at it you also had some shitty adult ruling and ruining your life. And I don’t know about you but as a Phantom Thief I can't really let that shit fly, ya know?” Ryuji finished with a grin, that split his face and was filled to the brim with simple honesty. 

In that moment his hit with a memory, it feels like a dream. Blurry and pain filled but he remembers, bright yellow gloves and hair carrying him through golden halls as Shido’s voice blared. 

Akechi could only handle a nod, he didn’t trust his voice.

”Fuck yeah let’s go fuck shido up then!” Ryuji said which startled a laugh out of Akira, who then turned his attention on Akechi.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked and Akechi almost screamed if Ryuji hadn’t rolled his eyes for him. 

“Yes.” Said with finality and no more room for arguing. 

“I’ll call the others then,” 

Akira left to do just that and Akechi heard Ryuji’s own phone buzz as no doubt Akira texted into their shared group chat. Ryuji made himself very much at home, sprawling on the couch and taking a breath. 

The silence spread and settled, Akechi struggled to be comfortable in it but he didn’t know if speaking would be worse. Ryuji however, for once, didn’t seem to mind the lack of noise. 

He decided to not break the silence, choosing to wait for Akira to return and for the others to make their appearance. 

The _others,_ he realized. He’d have to face them again. All who no doubt didn’t share Akira’s loving bias towards him. He tried not to let it bother him, but it always did. No matter how much he tried to convince himself he never cared for them. He had always wanted to belong. 

“Don’t worry about them.” Ryuji’s voice broke through his runaway train of thought. Akechi looked up to where Ryuji was laying down on the couch, arm over his eyes and legs spread, a perfect picture of relaxation.

“They’ll come around, eventually.” Was all he said, finished with a yawn as he shifted to lay on his side.

“Have you come around?” The question was out before Akechi could even stop it and he had never wanted to die more. He didn’t mean to ask, he didn’t mean to show he even _cared._

“No,” Ryuji said, eyes closed, looking like a cat napping in the warm sun. “I don’t like you remember, but then again I don’t know you,” Ryuji sighed, seemingly frustrated with this conversation. “I don’t know you at all, none of us do, except Akira, and even he looks fucking confused at times.” 

Akechi almost laughed at that.

“And as much as I don’t like you, I think, whatever _he_ sees in you, deserves a chance. To get to know.”

Akechi only blinked, surprised, no, _shocked_.

“I think a good start is beating the shit out of your dad.” 

Through his laughter, Akechi suddenly understood. 

Months ago he could barely tolerate Ryuji, couldn’t understand how Akira spoke of him so sweetly with glitter practically in his eyes. He had always thought of Ryuji as simple, and now he knows he was right.

Ryuji wasn’t complicated, Ryuji followed his heart, followed his friends and was so righteously _kind._

A few days ago Akechi might have found that vomit inducing. But again, a few days ago he should’ve been dead. 

But now he couldn’t be more grateful.

Ryuji spares him a smile, small, to settle the rising emotion in his bones. 

Ryuji was sunbeams and warmth. A different heat to the scalding weighted touches with Akira. Equally as welcomed, equally treasured. 

Ryuji was friendship incarnate, who was growing an olive branch on barren ground just for Akechi. 

In that attic, the winter snow painting the windows, Akechi was given his second, third, fourth and so many more chances. 

Ryuji gave him a fist bump. Akira kissed his forehead. Sojiro wished him good luck. 

He felt warm.

⚜️

**Author's Note:**

> Another mitski titled work??? are we surprised folks??? NO! N E WAYS. This started as a focus on Akechi and Ryuji’s budding friendship but I changed it a bit and added Akira. To me if akechi survived, he’d have to be fucked up about it, like he is about most everything else. And it’s personally easier to just focus on the pain and the anger than to figure everything out. You need to burn out and then get shit together, at least i think that’s how Akechi would deal with it. With Akira and friends help. This is my ryuji and akechi friendship agenda tbh. check out my twitter, @mechXhina which i made and i’m not active on LMAO but i’’m trying,,,, thanks for reading!


End file.
